The Spell of Eternity
by VIZexion
Summary: Reviving seven years after the Castle Oblivion incident, Zexion awakens in an unfamiliar world only to discover that his powers have vanished. He must learn to cope within the hellish 'Frontier'. Narrative format, rated M for graphic violence/sexuality.
1. A Prelude

Date Unknown, Year Unknown-

Always a moment. And then another. Mortals share a predetermined course; to live, learn, and succumb to death. There were those however, whom did not possess such a luxury. This was the particular instance I suffered. Bound to the curse of immortality, and from it, came nothing. My life was forfeit during my brief period of existence. Contrary to the set course, I learned nothing. It is only now, within this damned form, that I have come to know what meaning is. A purpose. Within the grasp of the Superior, I originally believed that my desire to once again be complete could indeed be realized. This however, did not come to fruition. Like my mortal years, I was again murdered by the hands of a traitor, premeditated on the premise that I would report the dissident's actions. (Which Number VIII was correct on, for I would have) It matters not now. With the newly granted chance I have been given by forces unknown, I plan not to waste it. With the wind I shall follow, and accomplish what is necessary. Hitherto, I had recorded little of my times within the XIII, let alone the necessary reports ordered by the Superior. Though, I've only opened my eyes to a world that I never was assigned to during my times in the XIII. For that reason, it is my intention to note all of my new experiences in this strange realm. For you, and only you, gentle reader.


	2. Realization

All is not well this evening. I originally paid little mind to how I had returned to my form, other than the sudden bout of mirth resulting from it. At last, I was no longer a shadow! I once again could speak audibly, touch, sense… After taking a moment to regain my composure, it then came to my attention to see if my abilities were intact. This unfortunately, is the issue. My usual chant to summon my Tome of Judgment was to no avail. Surely, this must have been a ruse. A clever one at that. I tried once more, this time attempting to cast a benign healing spell, yielding nothing. I could _sense_ my will coursing through my body. Yet, why was I no longer able to work with it? I had come to rely on the arts of sorcery, due to my physical weakness. Without it, death would come as swiftly to reclaim as my return. One would assume I was aggravated. And why would I not be, considering the fact that I was defenseless against any threats in this world? No longer could I freely travel through beyond the realms in the heavens, nor could I place myself at any location within one as I pleased. I became mortified, paralyzed at the notions of what forsaken creatures (or mortals, choose your poison) I might run into. There had to be some manner to regain what I had lost. No different than the heart, perhaps an easier task at best. Rest will decide my fate. With the closure of my eyes, new ideas will come to fruition. This must mean _something. _A trial given by an anonymous deity? No, that cannot be it. Enough musings. One never knows what tomorrow shall bring.


	3. Trauma

I awoke in a sweat in the middle of the night. This wasn't an unusual occurrence. It dated back to even my time spent within the XIII, usually as the product of some sort of horrid nightmare. It seemed that revival hasn't relinquished this unfortunate trait. Much to my dismay, the fire I had lit earlier was now a mere pile of ash and flickering embers. The gales of wind were already cold enough, and I had no intention of dealing with them any further. Yet, it was much too dark to scavenge for more wood, and with the loss of my ability, I stood little chance against the local beasts of the realm. My best strategy was to further nuzzle within my cloak, and hope to better insulate any remaining body heat. It worked, albeit barely. I could once again feel my lids growing heavy, my remaining consciousness drawing to a halt. When I had finally drifted to sleep once more, the error of my decision would be realized. I was truly a fool for not being alert.


	4. An Interlude

There was a poem I had penned once. Why I chose to do so is beyond me. It was a typical eve within Oblivion. The others were scattered about typical routine, while I occupied my quarters. Crimson light bled from the stained glass windows into my sanctum, trickling about the aisles of bookcases. I dipped a spare quill in the ink well of my desk, and sighed lightly. I was experiencing an intense migraine at the time, yet, it was more the cause of some sort of thought. But what? My assignments were completed, reports filed and submitted, yet… There was something that my mind begged to jot down upon the parchment before me. Under the flickering candlelight to guide me, I began to let my hand dance upon the parchment, writing as if it had acquired a mind of it's own.

_My fairest, you are the finest of souls to have descended from the heavens;_

_To have graced me._

_My heart begs for the allowance of your embrace;_

_How I long to caress your magnificent countenance, _

_Sculpted by forces far beyond that of mortal craft._

_My love, perpetually captivated am I by the boundless expanse of your glittering eyes;_

_The sweet fragrance of your breath; How you complete me!_

_Darling, always will I be smitten with the kindness and compassion burning in your heart._

_Eternity nor petty words are capable of describing my love for you._

_And despite it all, why have you not appeared?_

_For you my beloved, I dedicate these lines;_

_To the paths that will one day cross._

My hand halted at the last line. It trembled, and the rest of my frame followed suit. A wave of emotion crossed me; one that I had not encountered since mortality. It was somewhat diluted due to the mortal component I lacked, yet still present. I fell to my knees, quivering. To whom had I written this to? Larxene? No. I had not an idea in the faintest. I could feel myself giving way, drowning in this damned pool of anguish and solitude. To what purpose did I exist, other than a heart? Who was I? Why was I subject to this gruesome fate? It mattered little now. My lids gave way, my breath with it. I fell to the stone floor of my chambers, letting my eyes flutter shut. If this were the end, so it was.

"_Pour ceux qui vont mourir, nous vous saluons."_


	5. Encounter

Something was amiss. I could feel the ground I slept upon shake, and tremble. As if it was moving. Even the texture felt different. It was a fabric, soft and plush. I snapped my eyes open immediately to ascertain what had happened. "Ah, so you've awoken," said a female voice as I emerged from rest. I had indeed not been hallucinating. I was in the interior of a carriage, steadily about its way to a destination unknown. The heavens above were still blackened, so I there was no chance of my being out very long. I then turned my attention to the source of the voice. A single glance could inform one that she radiated of the otherwordly. She was quite lovely, her figure was magnificent. There curves in all of the necessary areas. It was far too perfect to be that of any mortal I encountered in previous years. Her countenance and eyes were no different. Her eyes were raven black, and pierced through the soul, while her skin lacked any sort of flush. Locks of curled autumn hair fell to her lower back, meeting with her waist. Before I could ask whom she was, the female immediately cut me off. "I am the Countess Elizabeth Bathory," she said, keeping her eyes locked upon me. "You know, I could have fed upon you then and there, resting peacefully… how foolish some are with their sense of false securities." Again, before I was able to remark, she finished off my attempts to vocalize. "Yet there was something about you. Aesthetically pleasing, innocent. I plan to do something other with you." My eyes widened. What could Countess Bathory have implied? The remarkably gruesome and macabre idea of 'feeding' upon me sounded horrid enough. I certainly wouldn't taste much good, at least I do not believe so. Bathory chuckled, and let a finger trace down my face. "My point of your innocence has already been proven.. You amuse me, boy." I gasped. This woman had the ability to delve into my thoughts. If only my powers were intact, then I'd be able to get the damned gist of what she wished from me. "My lady, forgive my being rude. But why have you taken me?" Elizabeth smirked at my question. "You're frightened, yet remain a gentleman. I'm touched. I just do not wish to waste something so delicate." "…" I was at a loss for words. The enigmatic female knew things of this realm that I did not. "We'll be arriving at my dominion shortly. My servants will attend to you." With this being her last words for the time being, Countess Bathory turned her attention to outside the carriage. Day would not break for at least another few hours, that was apparent. But I was mortified. The chance existed that I may never peer upon the light again.


	6. Assignment

_**A/N: I apologize for the delay. I'll be getting back to this now.**_

"So, what of it? Are you going to assist us?" The mayor asked, her voice a cross between dire worry and a moan. She was entranced with the unearthly beauty of the hunter that stood before her. His features just ever so slightly hidden beneath a wide brimmed traveler's hat, piercing stare focused on the young woman. "Yes. Though the cost will be a thousand dalas, and an additional thousand for the necessary supplies." The mayor took a step back, taken by both his hauntingly beautiful voice and the conditions. The cost to employ his services were rather high, but from what she had heard from rumors rampant in the village's tavern, as well as from traders and merchants that visited, this individual's abilities were beyond exceptional. Anything was better than to have another innocent resident lost to that wicked noblewoman, Countess Elizabeth Bathory. He'd see to it that Bathory would meet her demise. "Very well, Hunter. You have a deal. I will see to it personally that the villagers, as well as myself, pool together the funds for you." He nodded, and turned to exit her office. She gazed at him a last time, absolutely entranced by this man. "I wish you the best of luck... D."

"Ah D, always so noble, are we? Even with the price, you're every woman's saviour in shining armor-" The hoarse voice from D's palm was immediately cut off by a short clench of his fist. "Geez, you hurt my nose." "We don't have much time. Bathory will be weakened until dusk." "Yeah yeah, I got it. Did you get everything you needed from the merchant by the village's front gate?" "Yes. I was told where her castle was by the residents. It's less than an hour from here by horseback." D had said this while mounting his cyborg horse. "Who knows, Bathory may just be as enchanted as the mayor back there, making this easier for-" A clench of the palm. D loathed it when the symbiont in his palm dryly joked about the mostly universal reaction of women and men alike when they gazed upon him. Looks meant nothing. Only the quality of his work spoke.


End file.
